


A kiss to build a dream on

by lafiametta



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossover, Kissing, M/M, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:27:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23074741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafiametta/pseuds/lafiametta
Summary: A collection ofTerrorshortfic based on "kissing" promptsChapter 1: "Angry kiss" for Arthur/Lucien (Joplittle Camelot AU, 362 words)Chapter 2: "Awkward kiss" for Irving/Hartnell (Modern AU, 1053 words)Chapter 3: "Seductive kiss" for Jopson/Little (Modern AU, 674 words)Chapter 4: "Surprised kiss" for Jopson/Little (554 words)Chapter 5: "'I almost lost you' kiss" for Bridgens/Peglar (497 words)Chapter 6: "Exhausted parents kiss" for Jopson/Little (Modern AU, 893 words)Chapter 7: "'I've missed you' kiss" for Jopson/Little (1940s AU, 623 words)
Relationships: John Bridgens/Henry Peglar, Thomas Hartnell/Lt John Irving, Thomas Jopson/Lt Edward Little
Comments: 22
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Angry kiss" for Arthur/Lucien 
> 
> (A follow-up to [my previous Grimarthur fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17654753/chapters/54653698), featuring Lucien Grimaud from the BBC _Musketeers_ and King Arthur from _Transformers: The Last Knight_ or Jopson/Little if you squint really hard and pretend it's a Camelot AU)

“They were prisoners of war, Grimaud,” Arthur seethed. “ _Under my protection!_ ”

The Frenchman’s face was an impassive mask, impervious to Arthur’s righteous fury. Faced with their liege’s wrath, other men — perhaps even some within Arthur’s own company of knights — would have cowered, begged forgiveness, but not Grimaud. Instead, he continued to stand in the middle of Arthur’s tent, still covered in the blood and mud of the day’s battle, silent as the grave. 

Arthur found himself face-to-face with the man, wanting nothing more than to strike some visible fear into those dark eyes. 

“You offer no defense for your actions?”

Grimaud shrugged. “You’re not pleased to have a few less enemies to fight?”

Rage burned hot in Arthur’s veins, threatening to spill out uncontrollably. _How did this Frenchman not understand? Did he have so little honor that he could not conceive of a world where it was all that a man could say he truly had?_

“No knight of mine will be a butcher!” he bellowed, thrusting his face only a few inches away from the Frenchman’s.

Those dark hunter’s eyes — obsidian, fathomless — watched him, took all of him in, offering few secrets in return. The corners of the Frenchman’s mouth ticked up, a cruel and mocking smile set in that devilishly handsome face. His anger had not served to frighten Grimaud, Arthur realized. The man fed upon it, reveled in it, like the villain he truly was. Revulsion — mixed with something just as powerful — surged through Arthur, and he reached out to grasp Grimaud’s leather jerkin, for a moment wondering if the heart that beat just underneath it was as black as his gaze. 

The man smelled of churned earth and death, a walking charnel house, yet it only served to inflame Arthur as he pulled him close and quickly covered his mouth with his own. He might have thought to catch the Frenchman by surprise, to finally shatter some of that iron self-composure, but it was as if Grimaud had somehow known, all along, that this was what Arthur had desired. He offered no resistance, parting his lips without hesitation to allow Arthur to plunder those warm and willing depths. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Awkward kiss" for Irving/Hartnell

John always looked forward to Wednesday nights, when his adult bible study group met. It wasn’t anything fancy — a dozen or so people on metal folding chairs in the multi-purpose room of his church’s basement, sometimes a plate of store-bought cookies if they were lucky — but he liked the feeling it gave him, the reassuring comfort of being around like-minded people, fellow Christians who wanted nothing more than to try to understand their faith and live in accordance with God’s laws. The conversations were stimulating, often pushing John to see the passages in a new and unexpected way, and he frequently found himself sticking around after the meeting was over just so he could continue the discussion with one or two other members of the group. 

Over the past month or so, he had ended up talking more and more with Tom, a newer member of the congregation, maybe a few years younger than John and fresh out of the Navy. It turned out they lived in the same neighborhood, so John would sometimes offer him a ride rather than Tom having to take the bus home. And sometimes, if neither of them wanted the conversation to end just yet, they would stop at a coffeeshop or a late-night cafe and sit and talk some more. 

They had a surprising amount in common: both single, with big families, and both had experienced a recent personal loss, with John’s father having passed the previous winter from heart disease and Tom’s brother six months ago in a car accident. That was why he had joined the bible study group, he told John — to find some solace and to give some structure to his days, which, he admitted, had threatened to lose their shape altogether. John understood; he liked to keep busy, mostly out of habit: bible study on Wednesdays, painting class on Tuesdays, climbing gym Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. An ex had once accused him (rather unfairly, he thought) of being a man afraid of chaos, but all he knew was that routine — and his faith — seemed to keep the majority of his personal demons at bay. 

As the weeks passed, Tom seemed to improve, his smile coming a little easier, the light in his eyes shining a little brighter. By now, they almost always left the study group together, Tom heading straight for the passenger’s seat of John’s car, any notion of him braving public transportation long abandoned. And as they drove, night blanketing the city, John often wished those last few minutes before they reached Tom’s apartment building would stretch out indefinitely. 

That Wednesday night it was cold — November had begun with a fury — and even with the heat on in the car and a knit hat covering most of his dark blond hair, Tom’s cheeks were ruddy with pink. He was laughing at something, some joke they had shared as they sat waiting for a traffic light, but as John pulled up along the curb by Tom’s apartment, he quieted, the grin slowly dropping from his face. 

Tom unbuckled his seat belt, as if meaning to go, but rather than getting out, he shifted over in his seat, turning to look at John. 

“I just wanted to say thanks. This…” — he glanced between the two of them, making a small gesture with his hands — “…it’s been really great. _You’ve_ been really great and I… I don’t even know… it’s just…”

His voice trailed off, ending that awkward tangle of words, his eyes so wide and blue and full of something equally hopeful and ashamed. For a moment he simply stared at John, the silence between them lengthening and building, humming like the steady buzz of an electric current — until suddenly he leaned over towards the driver’s seat, his lips soft and warm against John’s.

John froze; there was no other way to describe it. He had been so completely unprepared for this possibility, and so he had no idea what to do, how to react to the reality of Tom’s mouth pressed firmly against his, of Tom’s warm breath mingling with his own. On some purely instinctual level, it felt good — more than good, in fact — but there was no way to make sense of it, to make it fit into what he knew of the world. 

And so, for those few brief and terrible seconds, he did nothing, his body rigidly immobile in his seat. Finally, Tom pulled away, humiliation swimming in his eyes.

“Oh, shit—” he blurted out, his cheeks an even brighter shade of red. “I’m… oh, god, I have… I have to go.” He scrambled for the door handle, finding it just in time, and then he was gone, the door slammed shut behind him in clear finality. 

Still in a fog of incomprehension, John could feel his heart pummeling against his ribs — and yet something else within him stirred, suddenly prying him loose from the paralysis that held him in its grasp. Without the slightest idea of what he was doing, he jumped out of the car, scanning down the sidewalk until he saw a familiar figure in a dark wool peacoat quickly moving in the opposite direction.

He began to run. 

Tom had just reached the entrance to his building when John caught up to him, grasping at his shoulder and turning the younger man around to face him. He didn’t immediately pull away — for that, John knew he should be thankful — but the hurt in his gaze was unmistakable, and fear as well, for clearly he had no idea what John wanted from him at this point. 

John reached out, his hand moving of its own accord to clasp the side of Tom’s face, fingers tracing along the soft strands of hair escaping from his hat. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I, uh, I wasn’t…” He paused, a tiny huff of amusement passing his lips. “Can we try that again?”

Tom slowly nodded, his expression turning soft, a small, secret smile forming along his lips. John only allowed himself a moment to see it, though, for just as quickly he pulled Tom in, brushing their lips together, completely lost in sensation and the joyous beating of his heart. And all once the world appeared to him entirely new and unexpected, a quiet revelation all its own. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Seductive kiss" for Jopson/Little

“I thought we were trying to stay off our devices after 10.”

Edward glanced up at Tom, but only for the briefest of moments before turning his full attention back towards the phone in his hands. “Hmmmm?” came the distracted reply.

Tom took several steps closer, maneuvering around the coffee table so that he could nudge Edward’s sock-clad foot with his own bare one. He didn’t want to be a nag, but it bugged him a little to see his boyfriend so blatantly ignoring a resolution they had made together. 

“You remember how we decided we wanted to be better about not using our phones at night?”

Edward blinked up again, this time for half a second longer than before, guilt pooling in those chocolate brown eyes. “Yeah, sorry…” He gnawed anxiously into his bottom lip, index finger tracing some unseen path across the screen. “I just really want to beat this level, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Tom said, as he dropped onto the couch next to him, his weight shifting their bodies a little closer on the cushions. One glance at the phone in Edward’s grasp and he understood immediately: rows of rainbow-hued fruit filled the screen, moving and disappearing with each swipe of a finger. Tom, for some reason, had found this particular game pointless and headache-inducing when he first tried it and had never bothered downloading it to his phone. Edward, on the other hand, was only ever a few steps away from full-blown addiction. 

That was partly the reason why they had agreed to try to limit their use; Edward had acknowledged that staying up late at night just to advance a level or two in his game wasn’t a particularly good habit to have, just like Tom could see that continually checking his social media feed — even after the two of them were tucked away in bed — wasn’t helping either. And for the most part, it had been working: over the past week or so they had definitely been getting more sleep and they had been able to use their new-found time in bed for much more enjoyable activities. 

Which gave Tom an altogether wonderful idea. 

Shifting a bit closer, he turned and nonchalantly rested his chin along the other man’s shoulder, pausing for a moment before letting his hand skim along the front of Edward’s stomach. Edward let out a rough breath, but his attention didn’t waver, still focused on the dizzying and colorful movement on his screen. There was no other choice for Tom but to advance further, and he did, nuzzling his face against Edward’s neck as he grasped him along the waist, feeling the warmth of his body through the thin t-shirt he was wearing. It was only when he opened his mouth and began to press slow, wet kisses against his skin that Edward finally relented, his fingers stilling as he paused in the middle of his game. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, in a low, strained voice that shot straight to Tom’s groin. 

“Helping you finish your level,” Tom replied, all innocence, as he began to nibble along a tender spot just below Edward’s ear. 

Edward shuddered, his breath turning heavy. “I don’t think it’s working.”

“No?” 

Tom hovered his lips closer to Edward’s ear — further down, his arm brushed against something hot and decidedly firm — and then took an earlobe into his mouth, sucking at it gently as he tugged a little with his teeth. 

“No, it’s— fuck, Tom—”

Without warning, Edward dropped his phone, oblivious as it disappeared into the depths of the cushions, and then turned and launched himself at Tom, pushing him back until he lay flat along the couch, his mouth ravenous against the other man’s. Tom opened his legs wide, letting Edward get even closer, feeling the evidence of his desire pressing firmly against his own. And as their mouths met, lips and tongues moving with undeniable urgency, Tom smiled, secure in the knowledge of being the clear victor of his own particular game.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Surprised kiss" for Jopson/Little

With the captain’s illness and so many of the men berthing on _Erebus_ , the ship had already begun to feel far more quiet and subdued. Save for a change of the watch, for much of the day the lower deck remained deserted, with only the tireless Mr. Diggle left to labor at his stove. 

Regardless, Edward tugged the curtain tight behind him as he entered the great cabin, lest any passerby catch a glimpse of what lay beyond. The captain’s present malady was not communicable, of course, but that had not deterred Jopson from erecting a veritable _cordon sanitaire_ around him, which only Dr. McDonald and Edward as the acting captain had been allowed to breach. The steward had proved remarkably resolute in his insistence that Captain Crozier remain unmolested, at least until his recovery was assured, going so far as to bar even Mr. Blanky from his friend’s sickbed. 

As Edward came in, Jopson was just emerging from the captain’s cabin, a cloth-covered basin in his hands. The odor coming from the basin was pungent and unmistakable, and Edward was pleased that the steward’s first thought was to empty it out into the nearby seat of ease before coming any closer. 

“How is he faring?” Edward asked, as if the answer was not evident from the lingering aroma in the air. 

Jopson shrugged, depositing the basin onto the seat of a chair. “The same. Shaking and sweating. He still can’t keep water down. The attacks come on quick, and then after he’s tired himself out, he quiets.” He quickly glanced back at the open door to the captain’s cabin, no doubt seeking reassurance that his patient remained at rest. 

The past week had clearly worn heavy on the steward; Edward could see it in the pallor of his skin and the dark shadows under his eyes, in the strained pinch that had settled just between his brows. He had forgone his coat and gloves and cuffed his sleeves up past the wrist, practical needs overcoming the requirements of formality. His hands were surely chilled straight through, Edward realized, even with the stove steadily burning in the corner of the great cabin. 

Stepping closer, he reached out and took one of Jopson’s hands within his own, hoping to share what warmth he could. The steward’s pale green eyes widened with surprise; they had never touched each other like this except in the privacy of their own cabins, and certainly never in such close proximity to the captain. Suddenly compelled by an altogether wicked desire to see that gaze grow even wider, Edward turned Jopson’s palm upwards and brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss into its center. It only lasted a moment — long enough to bring a pretty blush to Jopson’s cheeks — but it held a promise of things to come, an unstated acknowledgement of everything they might return to once the captain had recovered. 

“And how are you faring?” Edward asked, as he reluctantly released Jopson’s hand. Even if the captain was asleep, there was no sense in tempting fate.

The steward’s lips curled into a bashful smile, the first Edward had seen from him in days. 

“Very well, sir,” he replied. “Thank you.” 

And from the heat unfurling in his pale gaze, Edward could tell he was speaking the truth. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "'I almost lost you' kiss" for Bridgens/Peglar

The Carnivale tent burned for a mere hour or so before it collapsed, disintegrating into a heap of charred beams and tendrils of smoke. Its walls, made to resemble the familiar wood and stone structures of their homes back in England, had felt sturdy and impenetrable enough — but in the end, were revealed as nothing more than plain canvas and rope as they fed themselves to the flame with all deliberate haste.

The sky turned pale and hazy, and soon enough the sun’s sharp rays began to prick along the eastern horizon. They had waited so many months for this, to feel its light and warmth upon their faces, and now it only served to illuminate their tragedy, the ruined shell of their wintry pleasure-house, the unrecognizable bodies of their dead. There were no doubt many among their number who would wish it gone for good, if only to be spared the misery of seeing what lay before them.

As they waited for the fire to ebb, John kept his focus entirely on Henry, not wanting to let the younger man out of his sight for any longer than was necessary. He could still remember what it had felt like as he had frantically searched through the crowded mass of men in the flame-pitched darkness, smoke stinging his eyes and making his vision swim. Only once he had spotted Henry and pulled him into his arms did he allow himself to breathe, his face pressed tight against Henry’s collar. 

“I almost lost you,” he had murmured, his body sagging with relief. And in the panicked darkness he dared — as he never otherwise would have dared — to press a brief, desperate kiss to the side of Henry’s neck. He smelled of alcohol and sweat and smoke, but none of that mattered, for he was alive, flesh and blood and warm in John’s embrace. 

After the initial elation of finding each other had passed, Henry had begun to shake, a violent shudder than John suspected was not solely due to the frigid temperatures outside the tent. He had been caught in a fire once before — a boarding house, near Deptford — and he knew that fear could manifest in a body long after the danger was past. Searching blindly, he had found a stray woolen cloak on the ground and shook it free from snow, and then proceeded to wrap Henry snugly within it. He settled the two of them upon a wooden crate, letting Henry’s body lean against him for support. No one seemed to take notice of them, of how close they sat, so preoccupied they all were by the unimaginable horrors that surrounded them. 

And as the sun rose, its rays falling softly on Henry’s soot-stained cheeks, John reached down to take his hand and gave it a tiny squeeze. That it pressed back against him was enough to give him hope — and they would need all they could muster for the difficult days that lay ahead. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Exhausted parents kiss" for Jopson/Little

Tom barely had the energy to lift his head off the bed when he heard Edward coming back into their room and softly shutting the door behind him. 

“Are they asleep?”

“Out cold,” Edward said, as he toed off his shoes and collapsed face-first onto the bed next to Tom. “Both of them.”

“Thank god.” Tom managed to turn onto his side, taking in the sight of his husband’s handsomely scruffy face smooshed up against the vivid pattern of the hotel comforter. “Did you get them into their PJs, at least? And get them to brush their teeth?”

Edward’s eyes were tightly shut, but that didn’t stop the visible corner of his mouth from curling up into a self-satisfied grin. “What kind of monster do you think I am?” 

“Sorry,” Tom said, pressing a tiny kiss to the tip of Edward’s nose as an additional apology. “I know you know what you’re doing. We’ve just never had them for this long before.” 

For years, Edward’s niece and nephew had been a constant presence in their lives. At first, when they were small, it had just been the occasional evening of babysitting, and while Edward’s brother-in-law had originally expressed some reservations about Edward and his then-boyfriend — engaged in an “alternative lifestyle,” as he phrased it — taking care of both children, eventually he came to realize that Edward and Tom were probably more responsible than most of the people on the planet and loved the two kids more than they could say. In the end, they had been the flower girl and the ring-bearer at Edward and Tom’s wedding, their father looking on proudly. 

Now that they had gotten a little older, the two of them had been allowed to stay overnight at their uncles’ house and Tom had excitedly decked out the guest room — and its new pair of twin beds — with all sorts of Spiderman- and Frozen-themed decor. The Disney World trip had been Edward’s idea, though. It would spare them the cost of child care during the kids’ spring break, he explained to his sister, and give her and her husband some quality time to themselves. Plus, the kids would be over the moon with excitement. It hadn’t taken much convincing beyond that to get her to accept his offer, and by late March they had packed their bags and some sunscreen and were on their way to Orlando.

What Edward and Tom hadn’t entirely counted on was how much combined energy an eight- and a ten-year-old were capable of producing, especially when amped up on soda and cotton candy and caramel apples and pretzels in the shape of a Mickey Mouse head. 

“It seemed like they had a lot of fun today,” Tom murmured.

That morning, they had started at Magic Kingdom, and both kids’ faces had lit up to see the entry light turn green as they first flashed their Magic Band-bound wrists at the gates. At that point, it was practically a race down Main Street, with pit stops at Splash Mountain and Pirates of the Caribbean before heading to Fantasyland. 

The lines, of course, had been long, even with their Fast Passes, and the place was crowded with families and strollers that never seemed to dissipate. There had also been an unfortunate incident following a ride on the tea cups when, without warning, Edward’s niece had thrown up all over a park bench, followed by some upset tears. Tom had been able to soothe her, though, and with a few damp paper towels to wash her face and a promise to go to a character meet with Belle, she was quickly good as new. 

Edward squinted his eyes open — or at least the one Tom could actually see — and inched closer, a hand sliding up to toy with the hem of Tom’s t-shirt. Tom felt his breath catch, and the space between them seemed to grow warmer, as if someone had suddenly switched on the heat in the room. 

“Well, it _is_ the happiest place on earth, or so the countless promotional emails keep telling me.”

Tom leaned in, their lips just an inch or so apart. “Is that so?”

Edward nodded, his mouth widening into a grin just as he pressed it against Tom’s. Tom accepted gladly, parting his lips a little to let Edward’s tongue slip between them, slowly savoring the rhythm that they began to settle into, a sweet and unhurried give-and-take that perfectly matched their level of bodily exhaustion. 

After a moment they paused, if only to give themselves some time to catch their breath. Tom curled an arm around Edward’s waist, pulling him slightly closer. 

“You know what? I think _this_ might be the happiest place on earth.”

Edward’s eyes, already dark with need, grew warmer, a spark catching in their inky depths. He reached down to palm the front of Tom’s jeans. Tom gasped, an immediate jolt of white hot current surging through his veins. “And this place…” Edward chuckled, “this place seems pretty happy right now.”

“Shhhhh, not so loud!” Tom grinned, offering one final glance at the door to their room and hoping like hell Edward had remembered to turn the lock. “They might hear you…” And then he was lost entirely to the magic of Edward’s hands and lips, his exhaustion fully vanquished like the breaking of a spell.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "'I've missed you" kiss for Jopson/Little
> 
> (Inspired by [this brilliant 1940s AU gifset](https://rubysharkruby.tumblr.com/post/615120084579614720/joplittle-1940s-au-edward-little-and-tom-jopson) by [rubysharkruby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubysharkruby/pseuds/rubysharkruby))

By the time Tom returned, Edward was still asleep, his hair in glorious disarray across the pale expanse of the pillowcase.

After setting the morning papers down on the nightstand, he stood quietly for a moment and simply watched Edward, content to admire the way the warm shafts of sunlight were falling along his skin, and how boyish he looked with his face relaxed into sleep, those thick, dark lashes fanned into half-moons. 

It was a miracle to see him like this, safe and sound in their bed, a world away from the horrors they had witnessed during the war. It was a miracle they had found each other at all, after a year’s separation and the chaos that had come when peace was finally declared, but Edward had somehow managed it, phoning nearly every Jopson in the directory until he finally reached Tom. It might have seemed strange — a naval lieutenant searching for an ordinary sailor — but as they reminisced over pints in a nearby pub, both of them could plainly see that the bond they had formed aboard _Terror_ had not been severed with the war’s end. But a few weeks later, when Edward came to see Tom at his new gig, playing piano in a nightclub on the Edgware Road — that was the night that everything changed. The way Edward had watched him on stage, with barely-concealed hunger in his gaze, and the way Tom had felt it, deep down in the lowest reaches of his belly: it was clear they could never go back to how it had been before. In the alley behind the nightclub, Edward had kissed him, hand wrapped around the nape of his neck as he pulled him in close. Later, in the privacy of Edward’s rooms, they had done much more, finding a closeness and connection that neither had ever dreamed possible. 

Within a month, Tom had moved in, leaving Edward to explain to his rather unobservant landlady that he would be taking on a flatmate to share with the expenses. 

Having taken his fill of watching Edward, Tom shrugged off his coat and draped it over the bed’s brass footboard. The collar must have grazed Edward’s feet — or at least the counterpane-covered lump that appeared to be Edward’s feet — because he began to shift his legs, nose wrinkling into an expression of sleepy annoyance. His eyes blinked open and the expression vanished, replaced by a warm, contented smile. 

“Good morning,” Tom said, as he sat along the edge of the bed. “Fancy going for a fry-up down the road?”

Edward said nothing, only to reach out and tug at Tom’s waistcoat, pulling him closer until he was nearly horizontal. Their lips met softly as Edward offered him a gentle greeting kiss, his mouth opening just enough to remind Tom of all the things they had done together in this bed, some only a few short hours ago. 

“What was that for?” Tom asked, once he finally found the strength to pull away. 

“I’ve missed you.” Edward’s smile was irrepressibly wide, his dark eyes full of something Tom now recognized as love. It was impossible, what they had, and yet here it was, enough to break Tom’s heart a hundred times over if he let it. And he would, he knew — he would risk it all just to have a chance at this kind of happiness. 

He fixed Edward with a disbelieving stare. “I’ve been gone ten minutes.”

“Felt like longer,” Edward said, eyebrows raised playfully. 

“Did it, now?” 

And then it was Tom’s turn to smile, grinning as he leaned down once more to catch Edward’s mouth with his own, their bodies cocooned together in a warm bower of the day’s morning light. 


End file.
